


In Media Res

by notfreyja



Series: Of Unsound Minds [1]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Brain Injury, Canon Typical Violence, Crossover, Major Character Injury, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the risen dead in control of their city, Connor and Murphy are faced with their biggest challenge yet: get out of Boston or die trying. This ends up being a lot harder than  they could have ever imagined, and neither of the brothers will ever be the same. That is, if they even survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, everyone, here we go. This story is already written, I have the entire rough draft. I'm going to post the chapters as I finish editing them though, so no fixed schedule. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Have fun!

It had been a month. An entire month to the day since the dead first started walking; since the first outlandish stories of people turning cannibal started to emerge. One month of death and pain. Of fire and hell. One month since the beginning of the end.

           

Two weeks ago, Connor and Murphy MacManus were secreted out of Hoag prison in the rapidly ensuing chaos. They had spent two weeks hiding in their new apartment watching their city fall. Two whole weeks of taking turns restraining each other from bursting out the door to do something, anything at all. Two weeks of waiting for either Smecker or Eunice to come and fetch them like they’d promised.

 

Six days since they smoked the last pack of cigarettes. Six days of shaking, desperate need on both their ends. Six days of an even stronger longing to leave their sanctuary, if for nothing else but a smoke.

 

One day since they split the last bag of trail mix, of all things. One day of hunger and impatience. A day of thinking, _is anyone still coming?_

 

Two hours since they gave up. One hundred and twenty minutes since they lost all hope of rescue from anyone, let alone their friends. Two hours since Murphy finally made the case for leaving.

        

The time has caught up with them now. Standing in front of the door, they looked at each other, gathering their courage one last time. They had to go. There was nothing left. All they had between the pair of them was their four matching Berettas, only one spare clip per gun, and a bowie knife looped through each belt.

 

They were out of time, supplies, and options. There could be no retreat. The only way forward was out. They both knew what lay ahead, the running and the bleeding and the death. But they had to go. There was nothing left for them here, in this city they had nearly died trying to save from its own damnation. And oh how it hurt to know that, in the end, they’d failed. Boston was lost.

           

They saw it on the news, watching the little television in the corner with morbid attention. They saw the hordes of moving corpses flood the streets, kill and devour everything in it’s path. Murphy will never forget the sound of that news casters scream as a walker bit into her exposed neck.

 

The sight of that family being ripped to shreds a little ways down the street will be forever burned into Connor’s mind. How the flesh tore and stretched, as the blood flowed red and smooth and wet, down their bodies, painting them in an irresistible magnet for the living dead. Murphy had had to physically restrain him from running outside that day. He wanted so badly to do something, to help those poor people, even though he knew that it was too late. They had already been bitten. Get bit and you’re dead, simple as that.

 

So they knew they had to leave. The only way to safety was outside the city, where hopefully the hordes would be thinner. So they were going to go for it, the saints of south Boston, against the army of hell itself. And at this moment, there was only one thought on both their minds. _Keep your brother safe. Don’t you dare let him die._

 

But how safe could they be, really? Two angels caught in the devils fire. How fast could they run, tied down by all they must carry with them? How far could they get, before the ever approaching death plucked them up and left them in the streets to rot? How long could they last, until the very end? Neither Connor nor Murphy knew, but they were going to find out. They were ready to face the end.

 

Connor unlocked the door. With one last look at his twin, who nodded in encouragement, he grabbed the handle and twisted. It was time to go.

 

The hallway was silent and still, no sign of movement from anyone, alive or dead. All the lights had gone off in their building the day before, after some poor guy drove his truck into a telephone pole down the street, taking out the electricity on the block, and calling the dead to him. He didn’t last very long.

 

“I think it’s safe,” ventured Murphy, taking the first cautious steps into the hall. Connor was suddenly unsure whether this was a good idea or not. Sure they had to leave, but something about this hall just felt wrong. It was too silent, too still. “You coming, Conn?”

 

Oh well, there was no way to go but forward, no matter how much it unsettled him. So he nodded, following his brother into the shadowy passage, “Aye, I’m coming.”  He watched as Murphy stalked directly over to the stairwell. “Where do you think your going?”

 

“Downstairs,” he replied with an air of _well, duh._ He went to pull the door open, but Connor grabbed his arm, pulling it away from the handle. “What’s the matter now?” he sighed. Murphy looked at his brother, and just knew that he was trying to come up with one of his plans. He grimaced, because that’s exactly what they needed right now, another one of Connor’s so-called plans.

 

“We need a proper plan, Murph.” And here it goes. “We don’t know what’s down there, do we? For all we know, that place could be full of them things.” He had to admit, Connor had a point. At least this time he wasn’t talking about rope.

 

Connor had been expecting some sort of argument from his brother, but to his surprise, Murphy only sighed before stepping away from the doorway.

 

“Fine,” he said, “why don’t we check the apartments on this here floor, then?” Without waiting for a response, Murphy spun on his heels and walked straight into the open apartment across from the stairs.

 

Connor cursed under his breath, running after his twin while drawing his knife. They had no idea what could be in there, and Murphy had just waltzed right in. When he finally caught him on the couch in the living area, he realized that being shut in for so long had not worked any wonders on Murphy’s already questionable decision making skills. Because there he was, flopped down on the couch, head rolled back, eyes closed, and smoking a cigarette.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he half-shouted.

 

His brother’s head snapped up, startled, “Just having a smoke, Conn. Want one?”

 

“Yes, I fucking want one, you idiot,” but first he had to make sure they were safe. “Hold on a sec.” He did a cursory check of the entire apartment before joining his brother on the sofa. “You’re going to get us killed. Dashing off to places without looking in a time like this.”

 

Murphy winced, realizing his own stupidity. “Sorry, Connor, really. I saw the pack on the table, and my mind just sort of blanked.”

 

Connor smiled grimly in response, “No harm done. Stick the rest of that pack in your pocket and let’s have a proper look-see.”

 

It only took the pair of them five minutes to search the entire apartment thoroughly. There were no walkers, but not much in the way of food either. All they’d managed to find were a couple cans of soda and a box’s of fruit snacks. Hardly enough to stave off their current hunger, let alone keep them going for any considerable amount of time.  They sat down on the sofa again with the intent to just eat a little, but they ended up eating all the colorful gummies and drinking all of the soda before they actually left.

 

Courage boosted, they moved to the next apartment on the floor. The door was shut, but fortunately unlocked. So Connor pushed it open and went to walk in, Murphy on his heels. But before he had even had the chance to move an inch, a dead man walked out.

 

“Fuck!” he yelled, stumbling backwards into his twin almost knocking the pair of them over. They would have ended up in a pile on the floor if Murphy hadn’t shot his arm out at the last second, pulling against the door frame and pulling them both back upright. Which brought them even closer to the walker than they were before, and now it was moving toward them. Connor elbowed his brother in the ribs, “Come on, Murph, fucking move!”

 

They started steadily backing down the hallway, the walker limping steadily after them, reaching with his dead hands after what were probably the first living people he’s seen in a long while.

 

“Who’s the unobservant one now, eh?” taunted Murphy, elbowing Connor back, “So much for your so-called plan.”

 

“Shut up,’ he growled, shoving at his twin again, “What do we do?”

 

Murphy just looked at him like he had said the dumbest thing ever, “It’s got to be the brain, right?” He pulled one of his guns out of his pocket.

 

“But – are you really sure he’s dead…” What if they were just sick, after all, they’ve never seen one before. Maybe everyone had panicked for no reason. “I mean –“

 

“–Connor.”

           

They were running out of hallway in their attempt to back away from the man. But he just kept on coming. Pretty soon they would end up with their backs to a wall.

 

Murphy took aim.

 

In all honesty, Connor knew that the infected were dead. Everyone knew that. But still, this used to be a man. A living, breathing, most likely hard working good person. The type of person that the MacManus brothers had been trying to protect with their Saints crusade.

          

He flicked the safety off.

 

Now the man was nothing but a monster; an abomination upon God’s Earth. With rotting flesh, and a snarling mouth, nothing but hungry moans moving past its lips. There was nothing there in its eyes, now dimmed to a sickly pale yellow. It was merely the hollow shell of a man that was once alive.

 

So Murphy pulled the trigger.

 

It had taken them longer to clear out the floor than they had originally anticipated. After run-ins with three more walkers, they didn’t feel as rusty with shooting as they had prior to leaving the apartment. Most of the rooms were barren and empty, anything useful taken long ago.

 

They now had a bit more food, but not enough to last both of them more than a day. In one of the walker-infested rooms Murphy had picked up a sturdy black duffel bag for them to use. It had seemed like the previous owner had been planning to flee the city via air before the planes were grounded because the bag still had one of those airport baggage claim tags stuck onto one of the handles. It wasn’t in the way, so Murphy decided to just leave it where it was. He couldn’t explain why, but it felt wrong to remove it. It kind of felt like admitting that the tag would never be needed, that no planes were coming again. More than that, ripping off the tag would be like just erasing the identity of the man who used to own it. As if that, by removing his mane from his former possession, they’d be killing the poor man all over again. It was irrational, Murphy knew that, but it wasn’t doing any harm.

 

“So what do we do now?” he asked his brother back in their room, who had just finished cramming their meager supplies into the bag.

 

Connor stood still for a moment, trying to figure out an alternative course of action to the obvious. After a few seconds, he gave in and sighed, “Let’s just go downstairs and get it over with.”

 

So that is how they ended up back at the top of the stairwell, guns drawn, stolen bag looped over Connor’s shoulder, Murphy taking point. He grabbed the handle and pushed hard, flinging the door wide, revealing the pitch darkness beyond, for the stairwell had no windows. With one last nod of affirmation, Murphy stepped into the dark.

 

It was a cold, unlit, concrete passage. They felt both compressed and exposed, what with the narrow walls pressing in on them, yet the all encompassing darkness could cover any unseen foe. Anything could be there, lying in the shadows, and they’d be unaware. Hell, with their luck, they would probably walk right into it. And after a time of stumbling blindly through the dark, Murphy did walk right into something – the door to the little entrance lobby on the ground floor.

 

“What did you stop for?” asked Connor, voice slightly higher than usual, when he bumped into his brother from behind.

 

“I found the door.”

 

“So then what are you waiting for? I’m ready to go, let’s go,” Murphy could hear the impatience rolling of his twin in waves. But it wasn’t so much impatience to get into the lobby; it was anxiety to get out of the stairwell. It was not a pleasant place, what with every little noise they made bouncing around the walls, even something as soft as their breath echoing back at them in the dark. That would make anyone uncomfortable.

 

Only one small problem. “There’s a lock on the door. A thick padlock on a chain,” He called back, feeling along said lock. It seemed like someone had tried to seal themselves inside the upper floors of the building, no doubt intending to keep the monsters outside. Such as shame there were already some up there when he did; might have stood a chance otherwise. “I’m going to try to shoot it off.”

 

The shot rang out startlingly loud in the concrete pass, reverberating off of not only the walls, but the floor and ceiling as well. Wincing from the sudden explosion of sound, Murphy pulled the chain off of the handle it was wrapped around, pushing the door open the instant it was free. The brothers tumbled out, blinking in the dimly lit entrance. The mild sunlight getting through the gaps between the boarded windows seemed unnaturally bright after the pitch blackness of the stairwell.

 

“It’s about time the two of you got down here. I was beginning to think you’d left without me,” A wonderfully familiar voice called from the corner of the entrance hall. Both Connor and Murphy whirled around to look towards the source of the voice, eyes quickly adjusting to show them that lounging across the floor in the corner of the lobby was none other than –

 

“Smecker!” they exclaimed in unison.

 

“What?” he grinned at them, “Did you miss me?


	2. Destinations

“Did we… What the hell, Smecker?” stage-whispered Murphy. He couldn’t believe that their friend was just sitting there waiting for them, just when he thought that they’d never see him again.

 

“We thought you just abandoned us!” Connor, on the other hand, was yelling. Sure he was happy to see the man alive and seemingly unharmed, but right now he was more angry than relieved. He had been shut up with no one but his brother for company for two entire weeks with no contact from the outside world, nothing but a promise of _I’ll be back soon_ to keep them from storming out the door. They finally call it quits only to find Smecker sitting in the entryway, lounging like they were about to have a picnic. So, in short, Connor was seething, “What the fuck is going on out there?”

 

“Keep your voice down!” he hissed back, at a much lower volume. “Do you want the whole block to hear us?” Connor obediently fell into silence, but instead started pacing the narrow hall. Smecker sighed, “Oh for – can you please just quit your pacing and sit the fuck down?”

 

Murphy quietly slid to the floor on Smecker’s left flank, giving him a little nudge in greeting, eyes following his twin’s laps around the hall. After a couple of minutes of agitated striding around the entryway, Connor gave in and practically threw himself on the floor on Smecker’s right.

 

“Are you done?” he asked the more volatile of the brothers, who merely huffed in response. Smecker figured that was the best he was likely to get, so he went on, “Now pay attention boys. I did _not_ abandon you. If I had, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

 

“Sorry, Smecker,” mumbled Murphy, giving a slightly apologetic smile, “Conn here’s just angry ‘cause he thought you had left us here to rot.”

 

The ex-agent could tell that although he was much calmer about it, Murphy was just as upset as his brother. “Well if I had known this was the welcome I was going to get, I would have ditched you. Gone straight to the boats instead.”

 

“Boats?” inquired Connor.

 

Smecker nodded, “Yeah, they were evacuating the city via ferry; all the bridges were closed off, blockaded by soldiers.”

 

Connor immediately brightened, “Alright then! What are we waiting for, let’s go!” That’s all they needed: a plan, an actual, achievable goal.

 

“There aren’t any boats, you dumbass,” Smecker scolded his enthusiasm, “Not anymore, at least.”

 

Connor frowned at Smecker in confusion, but Murphy understood. He looked at their friend with dawning horror in his eyes until he gasped out, “Oh, Smecker, please tell me that you didn’t…”

 

“I did.” He grimaced, “Missed the last one, it pulled out yesterday evening.”

 

Then Connor finally understood. Their friend, their guardian angel had just risked his life on their behalf yet again. He had risked everything, braved the city of the damned just on the chance that he could go and fetch them. He had missed the last straight shot of the city on the hope that the MacManus brothers were not only still alive, but were still where he had left them. “You really shouldn’t have come.”

 

“Should have gotten yourself out while you had the chance,” added Murphy.

 

“Well I’m here now so the two of you will just have to learn to live with it!” Smecker spat. He was not in the mood to deal with the twin’s righteous insanity at the moment. To be frank, whether they were happy with his decision or not was the last thing he could possibly care about at that moment. No, all that Paul Smecker was concerned with was making sure that he could get both of his boys out of Boston in one piece. He knew that it was going to be a challenge. If he had only known how hard, how impossible a task he had set himself, even he might not have tried. But that is not important yet.

 

The boys soon found out that Smecker had gotten there yesterday morning. “If you two morons hadn’t taken so long to get your asses down here, we might have made the boats.”

 

Murphy shot an _I told you so_ look at his brother. After all, he had wanted to call the waiting quits ages ago. But in Connors defense, had they gone sooner Smecker might have come all the way to their apartment anyway only to find it empty. Lord only knows how pissed he might have been with them then.

 

“If you got here yesterday, then why didn’t you come up and get us? We might have made it,” asked Connor.

 

“Because the stairs were chained from the inside, genius,” cut in Murphy. His brother was being a little slow on the uptake today.

 

“And I couldn’t risk the noise it would have caused to break it open.” Smecker paused for a moment before adding, “Besides, I know you two. You were going to get sick of waiting and get down here eventually. It was only a matter of time.”

 

“Still,” Murphy frowned at him, “you really shouldn’t have risked it.”

 

“Well, I did!” Smecker was really starting to get sick of the way both brothers acted, like they couldn’t expect help from anyone. As if the only thing they had in the whole wide world was each other and no one else would ever even come close to caring about them as much. And sure, they had a freakily close bond that he was sure came with the whole twin thing, but they always seemed to forget about everyone else. About all the people who were willing to die for them, the people that _had_ died for them. No matter what he or anyone else did, they would likely never see that.

 

“We’re just not worth it,” insisted Connor. “You shouldn’t have bet your life on our account.”

 

Smecker sighed, shaking his head. These dumb Irish boys would never really see how many people cared about them. They were never going to get it. That so many were willing to give up everything, even their lives for them. Not for their crusade or their public image but them: Connor and Murphy. They had never been able to understand that, but maybe someday they would. At least he hoped so.

 

It didn’t take them long to reach a decision on what to do next, even though he could tell that they were both still upset about his coming. One thing was for certain, they had to leave the city. The walker concentration was far to high, and supplies would run out far to quickly. The nearest exit was a bridge about an hour’s walk south. Off course this would most definitely take longer, what with all of the dead they needed to avoid.

 

Pulling out a US map from his bag, Smecker laid it on the floor. “Now, once we clear the city, we have to keep moving.”

 

“Alright,” agreed Murphy instantly, “but where to?”

 

“Atlanta’s our best bet,” suggested Smecker, digging out a marker from his bag and drawing dark thick lines around the southern city. “We need to get there as soon as possible.”

 

“Why?” Connor asked with one eyebrow raised. “I mean, why go all the way down there?”

 

Murphy nodded along with his brother’s words. “Aye, it’s too fucking far to go on foot, and I don’t think any of the roads will be clear enough to travel very long on, if the city streets are anything to go by.”

 

“We should head to Washington,” continued Connor, “If any place still has protection, it’ll be the capital.”

 

“No fucking way,” countered Murphy. “We need to get as far away from highly populated areas as possible. What makes you two think that _any_ city will have done better that Boston? If you ask me, the cities were the first to fall.”

 

To which Connor rebuked, “So what’s your brilliant plan, then?”

 

Smecker slammed his head back against the wall in frustration. Now that they’d started, they wouldn’t stop fighting until one of them won. They weren’t going to listen to him, even though he already had a fully formed game plan.

 

“We should go off into the woods. Up in the mountains or some shit like that.”

 

“This isn’t fucking television, Murph!” Connor hissed. “We can’t just go dashing off into the wilderness with nothing. We need to find people again.”

 

It got suddenly quiet. It seemed like Murphy didn’t have a response to that. But just when Smecker was about to try to steer the conversation back to rationality again, Murphy all but whispered, “Who’s to say that there is any actual people left to find?”

 

Connor’s eyes flashed with something dark, “Don’t you say that. Don’t you _dare_ say that!”

 

“No, Conn, I’m serious,” Murphy wasn’t about to back down. Not when he was right, “What if we get into a city that you think is safe and get swamped by those creatures? What then, huh?”

 

Smecker knew he shouldn’t have let them start. But it was too late now. He could do nothing but watch as the situation spiraled out of control. “Boys –”

 

“Why do you always have to be so pessimistic?” Connor was nearly yelling again.

 

“I’m not being a pessimist,” Murphy growled back, his voice rising to match his brother’s, “I’m trying to stop you from getting us all killed!”

 

“Boys, please –”

 

The blonde MacManus leaped to his feet, eyes narrowed, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“What do you think?” Murphy spat back, shooting off the floor to look Connor in the eye.

 

Smecker followed them up, stepping between them, trying to make himself into a physical barrier between the brothers. This was getting out of hand, “Listen to me.”

 

“Why is it that you disagree with everything I say?”

 

“I don’t –”

 

“Yes, Murph, you do,” Connor cut his brother off. “You used to trust me. But now… I don’t even know.”

 

Murphy looked really uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as Smecker felt, but still pretty awkward nonetheless, “Of course I still trust you, Connor. I –”

 

“No,” he insisted. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Something’s been eating at you; you’ve been pissed with me since we woke up in Hoag.”

 

Alright, now Smecker was starting to get really annoyed. The twins obviously had something they needed to work out, but they just didn’t have time for it right now. They had to leave, as soon as they possibly could, and off course this is the time that the MacManus brothers decide to have a family therapy session. Still, at least this wasn’t happening in the middle of the street. _Think positive._

“No, I just…” the darker haired twin trailed off, suddenly unsure.

 

“What? God fucking damn it, Murphy, talk to me!” Connor shoved Smecker out of the way, destroying the little human barricade, and grabbed onto his brothers shoulders.

 

The second that he touched him, Murphy’s anger flared up to a level to rival his brother o his worst day. He shoved him back, much harder than needed, shouting, “BECAUSE YOUR PLANS GET PEOPLE KILLED!”

 

Smecker’s mouth popped open in shock. It was extremely unlike Murphy to blow up like that, that was more Connor’s area. And speaking of Connor, shocked didn’t even cover how he looked. It seriously looked like he had just been slapped, and by a hand he didn’t even see coming.

 

He was fully expecting a fist-fight to break out, but rather than rising to match his brother, Connor deflated. He stepped backwards, stumbling more like, and slid down the wall. It was then that Murphy finally seemed to realize what he’d said, because his eyes blew wide, “Oh, God. Conn…Connor, I’m so sorry! I…”

 

“Don’t,” Connor sounded defeated. “You’re right.”

 

 The older man looked down at the normally energetic Irishman. It didn’t sit right with him, seeing him so down trodden. But he had no idea what to say, “Connor…”

 

“Just don’t, Smecker.” He squeezed his eyes tight, not wanting to look at them. “Murphy’s right.”

 

Said twin rushed to his brother’s side, sinking to the floor beside him, pressing up against him and placing a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight. “I didn’t mean it. Connor, I did not mean it.”

 

“But you were right,” Connor rubbed his eyes, “Da, Rocco, probably Rome by now too. My stupid plans went wrong and they all ended up dead. I get people killed, I know that. I just…” He shook himself, “It doesn’t matter. I won’t get you killed, Murph, you know that, right?”

 

He turned his head up to look into his brother’s eyes, waiting. After only a heartbeat of hesitation, Murphy smiled softly at him, “Aye, I know.” He nudged Connor’s shoulder with his own, “I’m not worried, Conn. I know that, whatever happens, you’ll keep me safe. You always have.”

 

“Always will.” Connor visibly pulled himself together, smiling back at his twin, the other half of his very life. “Don’t you worry, Murph, I always will.”

 

Smecker had no idea what he should do. The twin bonding was great and all, but they had to go, and quickly. But he was just too tired to put up with their emotional shit right now. Oh how he needed coffee. “Not to rush the heart-warming declarations of love or anything, but…”

 

At his words, the boys snapped out of their freaky _stare into each other’s eyes so deeply for so long that we can see each other’s souls and read each other’s minds_ thing.

 

“The longer we stay here, the more likely we are to attract walkers.” He shot them a glare,” And your tendency to start yelling at one another isn’t helping.”

 

Murphy’s thoughtful frown morphed into a sheepish grin, “Sorry, Smecker,” he mumbled.

 

“As I was saying,” he scoped the now crumpled, trodden on map from the floor, folding and throwing it at Murphy. “We should head to Atlanta.”

 

Connor opened his mouth to argue again, then clearly though better of it, and snapped his teeth shut. He instead gestured for him to continue.

 

“The Atlanta CDC,” at their confused faces, he began to elaborate. “The most advanced and equipped disease control center in the country. If _anyone_ has this thing figured out, it’s those fine gentlemen working down there.”

 

He waited for them to reach a decision.

 

And sure enough, after a few moments of their freaky twin telepathy shit, they both turned back to him and nodded.

 

“Aye,” said Connor, “let’s go to fucking Georgia.”


	3. Promises And Peanut Butter

It didn’t take very long to get ready to leave. Murphy ended up stuffing the road map into the stolen duffel bag, and Connor nicked the half empty carton of smokes from his brother’s pocket, tucking them into his own. That was about it. But it wasn’t as if they had much to carry.

 

So after checking through the windows between gaps in the boards, Smecker deemed the street safe enough for travel, and went to open the door. But before he had so much as unlocked it, Connor all but shouted, “Wait!”

 

Both of the other men turned to eye him exasperatedly, fully expecting yet another ludicrous ‘Connor plan.’ However, instead of plotting, he looked panicked, clutching at his chest with wide eyes, “Murph…I forgot –”

 

“What, this?” Murphy asked, pointing at the wooden Celtic cross hanging from his own neck, clearly biting back a laugh.

 

“Yes!” Connor shot his brother a death glare. “Quit your laughing, it isn’t funny.”

 

Murphy chuckled, “Yeah, it kind of is.” Before his twin could throw another fit, Murphy reached into his coat pocket and tossed the matching string chain at him. “You always forget the important things.”

 

“Shut it,” he grunted in response. But Connor was smiling as he pulled the thin rope over his head. “Alright, let’s head out then, shall we?”

 

Murphy took point, leading them out into the now hostile city, Connor pulling up the rear. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, fighting off the paranoia that they were being watched by dead milky eyes. Then again, is it still paranoia when one’s suspicions are proven right?

 

Their plan (Smecker’s plan, really) was to get to the little corner market a few buildings down, and see if there was anything of use still on the shelves. Smecker said that there should be, considering that this area of Boston had fallen back when everyone though the things to steal were jewels. Back when people were looting televisions. So most semi-perishable foods or the junk food at least, should have made it.

 

He wasn’t entirely wrong. There was a lot of food left on the shelves, but the majority of it was rotted. Molded bread, blackened, practically liquefied fruit. Rank, stinking meat with rather colorful assortments of various molds growing where they had somehow managed to find their way into the packaging. The little freezer aisle was soaked with the condensed vapors, anti freeze and chemical tainted water spilling all over the linoleum floor.

 

Fortunately, the store appeared to be deserted, so they spread out amongst the scant aisles, checking for anything that was still edible. Connor managed to find absolutely nothing except for a handful of slim jims and a few packages of jerky that had miraculously survived. He was about to go find Murphy to shove the meat into his bag when he heard his brother shout from the next aisle.

 

“Fuck, yes!”

 

Both Connor and Smecker ended up at opposite ends of Murphy’s aisle, starring incredulously at the fully grown man who looked like he was about to cry over the giant stash of candy he had discovered, tucked into a little corner on one of the back shelves.

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” drawled Smecker, starring at the darker haired twin who just grinned at him like it was Christmas.

 

“Look, Conn, they still have Hershey bars!”

 

He rolled his eyes; unzipping his brother’s bag and throwing his _legitimate_ food into the large compartment, sealing it back up. “Well I am just so happy for you, Murph. Maybe we can find you a cake, and have party.” Connor grinned, “See, this here is even more proof that I’m older!”

 

“Shut up,” Murphy pouted, then smirked, “I guess I don’t have to share, then. Since it’s so childish.”

 

Connor’s eyes suddenly narrowed, “Off course you’re fucking sharing! That there is a pack of Reese’s.”

 

“So?” that was a full-blown grin now.

 

“ _So_ , fuck you and your milk chocolate, I’m getting some Reese’s cups.” He went to side step around Murphy, but his brother just body-blocked him.

 

“We can’t carry that much, Connor. And if we have to pick a candy, it’s Hershey.” Murphy looked at Smecker, mock pleading in his eyes, “Back me up here, sir!”

 

They both fully expected him to scold them on being impractical and drag them off to look for more real food. To their complete surprise he instead said, “Are you both fucking insane? Twix is the way to go here.”

 

None of them could keep straight faces any longer, and all three burst into laughter. The whole world, civilization and life as they knew it was over, and here they were fighting over candy preference. Sometimes Connor worried about their sanity. Now was not one of those times.

 

They eventually composed themselves, and ended up shoving all assortments of sweets into both bags, despite logical concerns for the bags’ transportability.  After another search of the store (that Murphy spent eating not only his chocolate bars but his brother’s peanut butter cups, damn him) they managed to find some water bottles and canned greens, which they split into both bags.

 

Off they went, back into the urban wilderness. They managed to do extremely well for quite a lengthy distance, staying quiet, not attracting any attention. They few walkers they passed, either Connor or Murphy managed to put down with their knives. No one had needed to resort to their guns yet, which was wonderful considering their low ammo. Even Smecker had barely anything for his FBI issue handgun.

 

Eventually, though, they came across their first barricade.

 

A bus had somehow ended up on its side, lying across the middle of the street, effectively cutting off all passage to the other side. “Well, that’s helpful,” groaned Smecker, eying the lopsided vehicle with loathing.

 

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” reasoned Murphy, walking straight over to the downed bus. Seeming to read his mind, Connor followed, and they linked their hands together.

 

Connor nodded for him Smecker to come over, “Up you get.”

 

They boosted him up onto the top (or side) of the bus, and he helped pull them both up in turn. Once both of the boys were safely up with him he turned to survey the street below.

 

About a dozen or so walkers were aimlessly hobbling around on that block alone, and about a dozen or so on the block after. It was certainly more than any of them had encountered thus far, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle, and certainly nothing they couldn’t outrun.

 

Murphy tightened the straps on his stolen duffel, “Ready?”

 

“As I’ll ever be,” replied Connor. “Smecker?”

 

“I sure hope so.” Honestly, he was staring to have second thoughts. “Just promise me you boys will be careful.”

 

“Us?” Connor did his best to look scandalized, failing horribly. “You insult me! Pinnacle of safety, we are. Isn’t that right, Murph?”

 

“That we are!” Murphy grinned at the ex-agent, “Just stick to us, you’ll be just fine.”

 

Smecker rolled his eyes, huffing in false annoyance, “Of all the crazy ass serial killers in the whole fucking country… I get stuck with you two Irish bastards. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

 

Murphy chuckled. Connor broke into a wide grin, “Love you too, Smecker!”

 

Said agent flipped him off, sending Murphy cackling into manic laughter. What they didn’t notice was that the street was starting to get a bit more crowded. Their voices were attracting the dead.

 

After a moment, Connor caught on, “Is it just me, or are there more of them things down there?”

 

“Looks like,” Smecker agreed, as Murphy fell sharply silent. This was beginning to look like a really bad plan. As in _Connor’s stint with the rope off the side of the Prudential now looked like brilliance_ level bad. Then again, they didn’t really have many other options. “There’s another barricade about six blocks up and around a bend. If we can get over that…”

 

“We might have a straight shot out of the city!” Connor finished for him, “We’d be nearly at the bridge.”

 

“We have to move fast,” Murphy eyed the street cautiously. There was quite a crowd forming now, no doubt drawn by their chatter. “You can’t stop for anything. Either of you.”

 

His brother looked at him sharply.

 

“I mean it, Connor. I know how you get when you think I’m in trouble, but you can’t do that now. You need to keep your head.” He smiled bitterly, “You can’t always watch out for me. Sometimes you need to watch yourself, okay?”

 

“Alright. But Murphy,” Connor hesitated, just coming to realize how dangerous their current situation was. “Promise not to get yourself killed?”

 

“Aye,” Murphy frowned, already knowing that that was one promise he could not keep. There was a very real possibility that all three of them would end up dead before the day was out. So he had to ask, “Will you make me a promise in return?”

 

Smecker looked at him with caution in his eyes. He did not like where this conversation was going, not one bit. It sounded almost like a goodbye.

 

“Just promise me that you’ll keep going, like I said. No matter what happens, that you’ll keep going,” he swallowed hard, “for as long as you can.”

 

“Murphy, no. I –”

 

“I mean it Connor. Even if I stop, you go.”

 

Connor looked at his brother with open fear, “Murph, what are you –”

 

“Please.” Murphy looked like his was in physical pain. And Smecker completely understood. They could die any minute now. And if the only thing Murphy felt he could do to keep his brother safe was to make him promise to let what happens happen, well what’s wrong with that? It didn’t matter how much it hurt. “That’s all I ask of you, Conn. That you don’t stop because of me.”

 

“Okay,” Connor understood exactly what his twin was thinking. And he totally understood, even if he didn’t like it. So he gave in. “I promise.

 

Smecker had watched the entire scene, his throat tight. It sounded like neither one of the brothers expected to make it out of this at all. And he got that, he really did, especially since he doubted his own chances of survival. But even so, the thought of either of these boys just _ending_ damn near broke his heart. “We have to go,” he urged, and the moment shattered.

 

Instantly, their demeanors shifted from worried brothers, to ready fighters. The warriors didn’t erase the twins, just covered them, and buried them beneath the surface. Out came the protectors, the saints. They checked their guns, drew their knives, and secured their luggage.

 

“Stay close to us,” said Murphy.

 

“We’ll get you out of here, don’t you worry.”

 

But Smecker wasn’t worried. At least, not for himself. This was Connor and Murphy MacManus after all. They had never let him down yet. There was no reason for them to start now.

 

No, what Smecker was worried about, what really caused him fear, was the thought that at any moment now, one of his angels might be ripped away, torn blood into shreds. He knew very well that he could lose them both today, so very easily. Which was what scared him most of all.


	4. Falling Forward

The three men were all but running down the street, dodging walker after walker, darting away from the grasping hands and gaping jowls. They didn’t fight back much, just ran. They had to get off the street as quickly as they could.

 

Half a block down, a walker managed to snag on to Murphy’s bag, jolting him sharply and sending him tumbling backwards onto the ground. He landed hard, and when he looked up it was into the faces of not one but four dead men and women, and more were coming towards him. His leapt to his feet, but before he could so much as attempt any course of action, whether to run or fight, four loud shots rang out and they all dropped to the pavement.

 

“You alright, Murph?” Connor was standing nearly ten yards away, tightly gripping his gun, real panic in his voice.

 

He nodded, and they all raced forward again. They knew the shots would call in more of the beasts. Even as they started running again, the once small crowd before them seemed to thicken as they watched. The walkers came limping out of side streets and back alleys, closing them off and penning them in. They had most definitely woken the dead.

 

Faster, they had to move faster.

 

Groaning and moaning the dead called out. Teeth already work on the flesh they knew they would soon have there, trapped between their jaws.

 

Quickly, they weren’t going quickly enough.

 

Stabbing, hacking, pushing, the three fought back against the horde. Dodging and leaping, they tried to avoid the reaching rotted hands.

 

Run, don’t hesitate just run.

 

No matter how hard they fought to stay together, the dead pushed them apart. Holes in the swarm opening and closing at seemingly random intervals, they kept getting cut off from each other. Like the pounding off waves upon the shore tore away the beach, so the walkers separated the small group.

 

A single drop of water would have no effect upon a beach. But a mighty wave, thousands upon thousands of those insignificant droplets would tear that shore apart. So that mere pinpoints of water would then have the power to take grains of sand, once pressed do tightly together that one could not discern one from the other, and send them spiraling apart into the crashing of the sea, apart and alone, lost in the dark. In that way the risen dead washed away the world.

 

For it were no longer individual monsters that Smecker and the MacManus brothers battled, but one uniformed horde, and ocean of the dead.

 

The waves beat harshly against the shore.

 

Smecker had no idea what to do. He knew they wouldn’t last much longer out in the open like they were, but he could find no other alternative. So he just ran, trying to keep up with Connor who had pulled a bit ahead of him already across the street that the majority of the walkers were stumbling in on.

 

Murphy, who had taken the time to actually put down a few of the biters in his way, seemed to have fallen behind. But when Smecker reached the opposite side of the crossroads he looked back, only to be startled by just how far behind he’d fallen.

 

The smaller twin was over fifty yards back, stabbing at nearly every biter that came near, not realizing how far behind he’d somehow managed to trail. Smecker opened his mouth to call out to him, to tell him to just make a break for it, but he never got the chance. Yet another gunshot rang out loud above any sound he might have made, and he spun just in time to see a walker mere inches away from his back drop motionless to the floor.

 

The incoming stream of dead doubled. The street was going to fill up faster than Murph could cross it. Connor tucked his gun back away, his eyes slowly widening in terror as he finally noticed where his brother was.

 

“Murphy!” he shouted, and his twin looked straight at him, eyes flashing with that same fear. “Leave them. Murph, just fucking _run!_ ”

 

He listened, starting an all-out dash up the pavement. But he wasn’t quick enough. The side street had filled with walkers even as he raced toward it. The next thing he knew, Murphy was cut off, could see nothing before him but a wall of corpses, obscuring his view of his brother and friend, and blocking all passage through. “Oh please, _please_ , no.”

 

There was no way through. He was alone. Now the wall of death was starting to move toward him at full speed. Limping and crawling as well as they were able, the walkers descended down upon Murphy, intent on claiming him as there next meal. So he did the only thing he could. He turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

 

“Murphy!”

 

He could hear his brother calling out to him, but he didn’t answer. He knew that if he answered, Connor would head straight for him. Which would be suicide. So Murphy just kept running.

 

“MURPHY!”

 

He could hear the fear, the desperation, even the anger that was starting to creep into his brother’s voice. He couldn’t do anything about it, he was trapped. So he did what was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done in his entire life: he ran away from Connor.

 

“OH GOD NO, MURPHY!”

 

He would circle around the block. Yes, that is what he’d do. Go down to the nearest corner and circle back up. He would have to sprint, but Murphy thought that he could make it if he pushed himself hard enough. And he planned to.

 

“FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! LET ME –”

 

But even as the loose plan began to form, he knew that it would be of no use. For another mass of the risen dead were approaching from straight ahead of him. No doubt they were drawn in by the gunfire and Connor’s screaming. He was trapped.

 

“MURPHY! PLEASE, GOD… _MURPH!_ ”

 

There was no way out. He was pinned down on both flanks, opposing marches of walkers severing off any route of escape. Connor’s hysterical screaming was bouncing off the walls of the buildings. They echoed over the once silent city, now drowned in moans and the shuffling of feet. And oh how that screaming terrified him.

 

“NO! NO! MURPHY DON’T…”

 

To be honest though, it wasn’t exactly the yelling itself that bothered him. No, he was actually kind of reassured by his brother’s hysteria. It meant that he was still alive. What truly worried him wasn’t even the fact that surely thousands more of the beasts were currently headed towards them, drawn in by the screams.

 

“MURPHY! _MURPHY!_ LET ME _GO_ YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

 

No, what concerned him most was that Connor’s voice did not sound like it was coming from any farther away. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain.

 

“ _LET ME GO!_ ”

 

Then again, neither was Murphy. He sincerely doubted that he was going to get off of this street alive.

 

“I NEED TO SAVE HIM!”

 

Wait; there was a door, open and still seemingly intact on a three level shop of some sort to his left. He had a window.

 

“ _LET ME SAVE HIM!_ YOU HAVE TO –”

 

Murphy dashed toward it, the dead following hot on his trail like demented blood hounds. The groups were starting to meet up, merge into one large, unholy mass.

 

“ _NO!_ ”

 

He slammed to door shut, latching the lock immediately into place. Connor’s screams were cut off by the buildings walls. Without even a moment of hesitation Murphy started running again. The door may have shut, but it was only wood. He could hear the walkers already pounding against it, knowing there was food beyond that small inconvenience.

 

It was only a matter of time before they broke it down. And he did not want to be around when they did.

 

Up the dark stairs he went, praying that nothing sinister lurked above him, for if it did, he was dashing head on toward it blindly. Never pausing, tripping on occasion over the invisible steps.

 

Murphy had no idea how long it had been or how far he had managed to get before he heard the sounds of countless footsteps below him. The dead had gotten in.

 

He just kept running, straight up, climbing the stairs as high as he could until he ran right into a wall. He knew he hadn’t missed a turn, he had been sure to follow the inside of the steps. So he must have reached the top. Murphy felt blindly along the wall, desperate for an out. The walkers would find him soon, he could hear them crashing up the stairs below him.

 

After a few seconds he found the roof access door, pushing it open and darting into the sunlight.  Connor’s agonized yelling was back in full force now and Murphy welcomed it. It meant that he was not alone.

 

“ _MURPHY!_ ”

 

There was no way to shut the door behind him, the frame had been torn apart where the latch was supposed to stick.

 

“ _NO! PLEASE – MURPHY!_ ”

 

There was no way off the roof either. The only actual way down was that stairwell that the first walker was stumbling out of now. They had been closer behind him than he’d thought. Before he knew it, they began to pour from it like a flood.

 

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

 

Only one base of the building wasn’t swamped. A small blocked off alleyway in the back.

 

“ _GET AWAY!_ ”

 

He clambered up onto the ledge. Three stories down, the fall could kill him. But the walkers…well, the walkers _would_. Murphy would much rather take his chances with the concrete than get eaten.

 

“ _NO!_ ”

 

He drew both of his guns, emptying them into the approaching crowd. And although he downed one after another, he could see no visual dent. More just kept streaming in from the stairs. There were too many.

 

“I HAVE TO – _MURPHY!_ ”    

 

Change the clips out, quickly. They won’t stop coming. Just step over their fallen comrades and continue their march.

 

“PLEASE, _GOD_ , NO!”

 

One reached him, trying to grab hold of his chest, it looped it’s fingers through the string of his cross. Murphy finished loading, and shot straight through the monsters skull, sending it careening over the edge. But it held tight to the string, snapping the tie and tacking the cross with him.

 

“Connor, I’m sorry,” Murphy started replying to the screaming that still echoed thought the city. “I tried, but I can’t keep my promise, Conn.

 

“And I’m so sorry. I never meant to leave you alone…I –” He blinked back the tears he felt building. He was not going to cry. Connor would be fine.

 

He was running out of bullets. “But keep your promise, Connor. Don’t you dare try to follow me. Let Smecker help you, please.”

 

Murphy pulled the trigger, and felt his heart drop at the responding empty click. The same thing happened with his other gun. He was out of time.

 

“I’m sorry, Connor…” he whispered. “You’ll be okay.” He had to be.

 

“ _MURPHY! NO! PLEASE, GOD!_ ”

 

He shut his eyes. _It’s alright._ Smecker would make sure that Connor got out of this alive. His brother would be okay. And in the end, to Murphy at least, that was all that mattered.

 

“I’ll tell Da and Rocco you say hello,” he gulped, feeling the first walker of many grab at his arm. It had to be now.

 

“I love you, Conn.”

 

Murphy stepped backwards over the edge, falling into the empty air. And for one brilliant moment he was flying. His brother’s voice followed him down.

 

“ _MURPHY!_ ”

 

He hit the ground, and a searing pain shot through his entire being, swallowing him up. The lids of his eyes turned a startling, dazzling white, then slammed into blackness.

 

Murphy MacManus knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, don't flip out. Remain calm. There is more, I promise. No surprise death fic. Just hang in there.


	5. Carved and Cut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because that last part wasn't heart-breaking enough, lets go see how Connor's doing.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” gasped Smecker. The crossing between Murphy and them had been so clear just moments, heartbeats before. Now it was thick with walkers, effectively closing them of, splitting their group in two.

 

“Murphy!” called out Connor, starring not at the dead themselves, but beyond them, almost as if they were transparent. No doubt he was trying to locate his brother in this impossible storm of rotted bodies. But there was no gap to get through, let alone see through. It was a solid wall of death. “MURPHY!” he tried again. This couldn’t be happening. Connor couldn’t lose Murphy, he just _couldn’t._

 

Smecker was saying something, and he seemed to think it was urgent, if his tone of voice was anything to go by. But he didn’t seem to understand that whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Until Connor had his brother back with him, nothing else was important. He had to find a way through, and now.

 

But there was nothing in front of him but the walking dead. And Murphy hadn’t answered…

 

Suddenly, with the force of a freight train, it hit him. _Murphy hadn’t answered_. Murphy always answered when he called for him. He would never ignore him.  This could mean something very, extremely not good. Something Connor did not want to even consider. “OH GOD NO, MURPHY!”

 

He bounded forward, intending to bodily force himself through the mass of death. He no longer cared for his own safety; he just had to find his brother. He didn’t get very far before he felt arms circle his chest, halting his forward motion, and tugging him back further. “Are you insane?” Smecker’s voice hissed in his ear.

 

As if stopping him wasn’t bad enough, he was now trying to drag Connor back away from the approaching storm. Away from _Murphy_. “FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! LET ME –”

 

“You know that I can’t do that,” Smecker replied as calmly a possible. The walkers were steadily advancing, and Connor wouldn’t stop trying to break free and run at them.

 

“ _Why the hell not?_ ” Connor snarled back. He thrashed out wildly, trying to break free of the hold. “MURPHY! PLEASE, GOD… _MURPH!_ ” he wailed. It seemed like he had completely lost it, Connor was sure. He was running at walkers, trying to escape his friend in order to dart into a horde. But he was, in fact, perfectly sane. He just had to go find his twin. “NO! NO! MURPHY DON’T…”

 

No matter how hard he fought, Smecker kept pulling him back, dragging him farther up the street. He had to break free. “MURPHY! _MURPHY!_ ” he tried again, still no answer.

 

“Connor, you need to calm down!” If he didn’t, they would both end up dead. Smecker knew that, but there was nothing he could do about it. Rather than calming down, the Irishman seemed to get more and more hysterical as time ticked on. Each heartbeat sending him careening deeper into this madness.

 

“LET ME _GO_ YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

 

There was no way in hell he was going to do that. For he was well aware that the second he released him, Connor would run straight for his brother. Even if that meant throwing himself into the jaws of the dead.

 

“ _LET ME GO!_ ”

 

He just didn’t seem to see the certain death that lay before his eyes. If Smecker was certain about one thing, it was that letting Connor go right now would only lead to his painful, gruesome death. So he just clung impossibly tighter.

 

“I NEED TO SAVE HIM!”

 

“You can’t get to him that way!” he tried. Connor wasn’t listening, just yanking and pulling, and clawing at the hands circled around his chest. Apparently there could be no reasoning with him. Not anymore. Yet Connor still needed to snap out of it, and quick. The walkers were gaining on them. And when Smecker looked over his shoulder he could see another herd forming a ways up the street. They were going to be stuck between the two swarms if they didn’t move fast. “We have to get off the street. Connor!”

 

“ _LET ME SAVE HIM!_ ”

 

Connor wasn’t absorbing any of this. Not a single damn word. It was then that Smecker knew that if he didn’t do something, and soon, that they were both going to die right there, caught by two separate masses of walkers at once. So he did the only thing he could think of.

 

He released one arm, spinning Connor to face him with the other.

“YOU HAVE TO –”

 

And slapped him hard across the face.

 

The Irishman stumbled, rubbing at his jaw, blinking in surprise. He had clearly not been expecting that. Smecker took his opportunity. “Listen, we will go get your brother, but we can’t do anything from down here. There are too many walkers, understand?”

 

He nodded slowly; his eyes growing wide as he finally took in the surrounding environment. There were indeed dead men bearing down on them from both sides. This was not good at all.

 

“We have to get off the street,” Smecker repeated, slower, pleading for Connor to respond.

 

It took him a moment, but he finally answered, “Okay.” Turning on the spot he evaluated their options.  Walkers were steadily approaching from both directions, making a ground route escape nearly impossible. All of the doors he could see were either busted open or sealed up tight, most likely locked. And breaking down a door would kind of defeat the purpose of having one to begin with. He was just beginning to panic again when he saw it, an already pulled down fire escape ladder in the small side alley of a building directly across from him “Smecker, there!”

 

He pointed, and they both took off running, the walkers only a few yards off. It was going to be one hell of a close call.

 

They reached the base of the ladder. “Go, go, go!” Connor urged. Smecker hesitated, clearly debating whether to force his up the ladder first. “I’ll be right behind you, I swear, now go!”

 

He waited until Smecker was about halfway up the rungs before following. He had almost waited too long, because as he climbed he felt a walker grab hold of his foot. He struck out, kicking the dead person back and tearing his foot free. After that he scaled the ladder even faster.

 

When he got to the top, it was to join Smecker on a small metal platform, two stories up. His friend was looking straight down into the alley. Connor followed his gaze to see the small space between buildings completely covered in a massive swarm of groaning, grasping walkers. And from the looks of it, so was the street beyond.

 

 

“ _NO!_ ” he howled. He couldn’t see around the building next to him. It blocked their view of the street. He could not see the section of street Murphy should be on. He couldn’t see his brother. “MURPH!”

 

The sound echoed off the stone walls surrounding them, amplifying his call. It bounced back, mixing with the moans of the hungry dead. Still Murphy did not respond.

 

Smecker’s voice was soft, but firm, “Connor, listen…”

 

His head snapped up, tearing his line of sight from the biters to instead glare at the ex-agent. “Don’t say it,” he spat, “Don’t you _dare_ tell me that.”

 

Pity flashed across Smecker’s face, causing rage to jolt through Connor. Pity had no place here; it was reserved for condolences and apologies. Any of those would mean that a loss had occurred, that Murphy was gone. Connor refused to believe that. If his brother had died, he would know, would have felt it. Because that is how it is supposed to be. If Murphy died, he did. They had never been separated in life; death had no right to do any differently.

 

“We have to find him,” insisted Connor. He took a quick look around. “That balcony, on the front of the building,” he pointed, “should have a better view of the road.”

 

Without even waiting for a response, Connor kicked in the window, climbing through and striding straight over to the balcony, not even taking in the room he walked through. Good thing the apartment held no biters, for if it did, he would not have noticed them until it was too late. He had tunnel vision right now. He had to find his twin.

 

“Where is he?” he growled, examining the street below. It was packed with walkers.

 

“Connor,” Smecker had caught up to him, most likely after checking their surroundings, “you have to see that there is no way –”

 

“ _Shut up!_ ” His fingers curled into fists around the railing. “Please, just stop talking and _help me._ ”

 

He sparred a glance in his direction, wasting precious seconds he could be spending looking. That damn pity was still there, the dominating feature on his face. “Just look at the street. Connor, _really_ look.” Smecker gestured at the mass of death, “No one could be alive down there. It just isn’t possible.”

 

Something inside Connor snapped. Letting out a wordless cry, he swung his left fist, hooking Smecker in the jaw. He stumbled backwards into the corner with the force of the impact, caught himself on the railing, and slid to the floor. Connor stood over him, a mad glint in his eyes, like that of a caged beast. “Now you listen to me,” he hissed, crouching down in front of him and grabbing onto his chin so Smecker had no where else to look but directly at him. “Murphy is fine. He is alive, he is okay. Because that’s how life _works_.”

 

He released his face, grabbing instead at Smecker’s hand and pressing it to his chest. “You feel that?” That’s _our_ hearts beating. Together, in unison since the day we were born. _Always_.”

 

It was official, the boy had lost it. “Connor, you need to calm down.”

 

“ _AND YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND!_ ” he shot up to his full height, pacing the little patio. “He is not dead! Not while I’m alive! Do you hear me? I live – he lives. He dies – I don’t keep breathing! So if he’s gone, _why am I still here?_ ”

 

Then Smecker understood, and immediately wished he didn’t. Connor literally could not comprehend the thought of his own existence without Murphy. What must it be like, to spend your entire life in someone else’s presence, only to have them vanish on you without a trace? No wonder he was not responding to the reality of the situation. To him, it just didn’t seem real. “I don’t know.”

 

He pulled himself up, spitting blood over the edge of the banister. Connor had clipped him really good. “But you _are_ still breathing. So there’s hope, right?”

 

“Aye,” he nodded, eyes dark. He turned his attention back to the street, “Now help me look.”

 

“Okay,” Smecker resigned himself to spent god knew how long scanning the street for a body he knew was already ripped apart.

 

“ _MURPHY!_ ”

 

There was no answer, how could there be? Murphy was dead. But wait, Connor was no longer searching the road; rather he was starring straight ahead to the roof of a building a little ways down the road and opposite them. Where, lo and behold, none other than Murphy MacManus darted across the top.

 

Connor starred at his brother, relief flooding through him like that which he had never felt before. Murphy was alive, he was okay. He was about to call out again, attempt to get his attention, when the first walker joined him on the roof. “ _NO! PLEASE – MURPHY!_ ”

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, his twin hopped up onto the buildings back ledge and opened fire on the rapidly forming mob. But there were to many and more were still coming. Murphy was outnumbered.

 

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” He was shouting. Cursing at the monsters at the top of his lungs, pleading for them to leave his brother be. To just stop and lie still. To be dead like they should.

 

Murphy stopped firing, and began to reload. With nothing to hold the masses back, they surged forward with a fury. “ _GET AWAY!_ ” Connor screamed at them, irrationally pulling out his guns. He would shoot them all himself, pick them off one by one.

 

Smecker blind sided him, slamming him to the floor, pinning his hands above his head. “What are you doing?” Connor growled. “Let me up!”

 

The ex-agent squeezed his wrists hard, making him release the weapons. “Are you fucking insane?” Smecker hissed back at him. “It’s too far, you’ll hit him.”

 

Connor just glared.

 

“I’ll let you up, but I am going to ask you to leave your guns here, alright?”

 

He nodded. The second Smecker shifted his weight, Connor bolted up. He had to keep his eyes on Murphy.

 

Even though he was firing again, Murph was swamped, barely keeping the beasts at bay. “ _NO!_ ” He clung to the banister, shaking. He was useless.

 

“I HAVE TO –” He didn’t know what to do. But if he didn’t do something soon, Murphy wasn’t going to make it. “ _MURPHY!_ ”

 

It was then that the unthinkable happened. Murphy ran out of bullets. It was Connor’s worst nightmare come to light. His brother was about to die right before his eyes, and there was nothing, not one damn thing, he could do to stop it. “PLEASE, _GOD_ , NO!”

 

Murphy was going to die, and it was going to be violent and horrible. It was going to be bloody. There would be pain, and screaming, and the tear of flesh from bone. Connor would have to watch as the other half of his life was literally ripped away.

 

“ _MURPHY! NO! PLEASE, GOD!_ ”

 

But God had stopped listening. He no longer cared. For the walkers kept advancing. Connor could no longer fight back the wetness spilling over from his eyes. A vicious sob tore through him. Halfway up his throat, it changed to Murphy’s name. “Murph…”

 

He was openly sobbing down, shaking, and clutching the railing for support. “Connor,” he heard Smecker from behind him. His voice was gentle, kind. “You don’t have to watch this.”

 

“Yes,” he insisted, “I do.”

 

He owed his brother that much, at least, to suffer with him. Because that is how life works. Connor and Murphy, together since birth. Always one, united, the two of them against the world. So he would watch until the very end, and feel each wound to Murphy like one upon his own skin.

 

He felt Smecker press up behind him, once more encircling him with his arms. Except this hold was not a restraint, but an attempt at comfort. A silent promise of _I’m here, you won’t be alone._

 

The first walker was nearly to him, and Murphy stood there in perfect stillness. Connor could see his mouth moving, but it was too far away to make out the words. But he had a feeling he knew what they were.

 

“I love you too, Murph. Oh god, I love you,” he choked out, feeling Smecker’s grip tighten.

 

He braced himself for the first scream, but it never came. The second a walker grabbed hold, Murphy stepped backwards over the edge, and vanished from sight.

 

“ _MURPHY!_ ”

 

The sound tore from his chest, ripping apart his throat along with his heart. It was over. All of it.

 

Murphy was gone.


End file.
